


Shower

by swishandflickwit



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, CS AU, Canon Divergence, Captain Swan AU Month, F/M, Fluff, Frozen TLK Headcanon, One Shot, Romance, Smuff, shower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-02-12 11:02:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2107368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swishandflickwit/pseuds/swishandflickwit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His heart aches, and it aches badly because it is a yearning kind of ache. The kind that leaves your heart pounding painfully against your chest because your lover is hurting and you cannot do anything at the moment to ease her pain.</p><p>Because TLK doesn't always mean happily ever after, right away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shower

**Author's Note:**

> My take of events on what happens between Emma and Hook after the Frozen TLK headcanon.

Try as he might, he can’t shake the cold feeling from his bones.

Emma notices (of course she notices, she’s always been a perceptive one) but does not say anything. She merely looks at him before (deliberately) evading his hand to take his arm and leading him to…

"The bathroom, love?"

She stops but does not face him, only turning her head a fraction to speak over her shoulder. “It’s been a long day, Killian. I’m exhausted and dirty and I just want to take a warm bath so are you going to join me or not?”

Emma doesn’t wait for an answer though, just heads for the bathroom leaving a trail of clothes at her wake (she knows he will follow anyway) and her movements spur him to do the same. When he enters the bathroom, she is already by the shower, turning the knobs all the way to the direction indicated by an ‘H’ which he recognizes as the sign for hot (it still amazes him that all one needs to adjust the temperature of their bath is a few twists and turns, not a boiling pot of water poured into a tub).

He eyes her confusedly.

"Emma, darling, are you sure? You weren’t hit by the cur–"

"I know." She cuts him off and turns to face him (finally). "But I can’t shake it off either."

He takes a moment to study her, mouth set in a grim line, arms crossed tightly in front of her and shoulders hunched as if to ward off something (the cold most likely) and nods in understanding, if the chills that attack his spine are anything to go by.

He presses a kiss to her temple when he sees her tremble slightly (it is damn  _freezing_ ) before stepping into the shower area. She remains outside the stall, closed off and unmoved save for the shutting of her eyes.

His heart aches, and it aches badly because it is a yearning kind of ache. The kind that leaves your heart pounding painfully against your chest because your lover is hurting and you cannot do anything at the moment to ease her pain.

The kind of ache that longs to reach out to her and speak to her – considering the day’s events – but is refused all the same.

He wants to say all this.

"Okay," he tells her instead.

He steps under the spray of the water but leans his head back to observe her. He notices the tense set to her shoulders and the way her head is bowed down. She is retreating into herself, he knows. He also knows why and wishes she would let him soothe her,  _hold her_.

Rather, he settles for a gentle, “Swan?”

It snaps her out of her stupor and has her stepping into the shower. Her hands tighten around her upper arms as she moves closer to the showerhead, and it doesn’t escape his notice how careful she is not to touch him.

But  _he_  wants to touch  _her_.

He attempts to content himself by watching the delicious way her hair falls down her back, curling in playful waves against the heat of the scalding water. He sees how the water droplets cling to her as they slide slowly down her skin.

He wants to be the silky, wet strands of her locks, clinging desperately onto the curves of her shoulder blades. He wants to be those droplets, peppering her skin and dripping sensuously all over the intimate planes of her body, which continues to quiver, still cold. Never has he been so jealous of inanimate objects in his life.

(And never, despite her being right in front of him, has he felt so much distance between them)

Finally, when he can no longer bask in his contentment, when the space between them (though mere inches in reality) feels all too vast, he bears a kiss to her left shoulder.

He thinks his heart might break at the way her entire body stiffens but he remains still, lips pressed into her skin.

"Emma," he breathes, " _please_.”

And it must be the unspoken words that follow the ‘please’ ( _talk to me_ ) that does her in because all of a sudden she is facing him, hands pushing forcefully against his chest, trying to but unsuccessfully, get him to move.

"You  _bastard_!”

She hits adamantly and this time he cannot help but stumble back slightly.

"You son-"

_Shove_

"-of-"

_Trip_

"-a-"

_Harder_

“ _BITCH_!”

His back hits the wall opposite the showerhead as she holds him there with her palms flat against his chest.

"You shouldn’t have done that! You utter  _scumbag_!” She slaps the space near his head. “You shouldn’t even have been there,  _you should have stuck to the plan_! But  _no_ ,” (the sardonic drawl that accompanies her ‘no’ makes him cringe) “you just  _had_  to follow me and  _not_  my instructions. You just couldn’t trust me, could you? _COULD YOU_?”

She pounds against his chest, this time with a closed fist, and he shuts his eyes in pain, not because she deigns to hit him, but because of the way her voice conveys her hurt when he knows she would rather he solely hear her anger.

"You’re a  _liar_ , Killian! A liar and a worthless piece of  _shit_ –” She snarls, “A  _pirate_.”

His eyes snap open at that and with his one hand, he clutches both her wrists, which up until that point have not ceased in their beating, to his chest.

He has been called many a nasty things in his life (a cheater, a gambler, an adulterer, you name it) and while it may have been fine to call him this a year ago, hearing it fall from Emma’s lips now – after everything they both have been through, after their  _moment_ earlier in the day – it has become the worst possible slur to him in the entire world, even all the realms.

"What was I supposed to do, Emma?" (he tries not to shout, he really does, but it is a trial at this point after what just  _occurred between them_ ) “You  _knew_  Elsa was unstable but you just had to be stubborn! How could you think you could take her  _on your own_?”

"Oh! So now you’re  _questioning_  my  _abilities_?  _You’re_  the one who’s always encouraging me–”

"I’m  _not_   _doubting your magic_! I  _know_  the depth of your power and you are strong. You are so bloody strong, Emma.” (and this time his voice cracks uttering the next line, trying to cup her face but failing when she avoids his touch) “And so  _pure_. But you are also too self-sacrificing–”

"Says the most selfish person l know!"

(He tries not to let that sting him, tries to remind himself that she is hurt and she is angry and people always say things they don’t mean when they’re in the heat of the moment)

(Right?)

His face hardens and his voice drops.

"Your parents… Regina… the town… they may be fooled by your act. But never forget Swan, you and I,  _we understand each other_.”

She sucks in a breath when he throws the familiar words at her, it takes her back to the time when he – and she gulps – did a selfless act for her.

(It reminds her that he has never stopped since then and she feels the weight of shame on her shoulders as she looks away from him)

He releases his hold on her wrists to gently grasp her chin and this time, she allows it. He sighs quietly in relief and all the fight leaves him instantaneously when he sees her eyes, red-rimmed and glassy. It is then he realizes that her shaking earlier was not the result of a remaining frigidity but an attempt to hold in the sobs she was too inexorable to let go.

If he thought his heart was on the verge of breaking then surely it is broken now.

He knows the truth hurts her, but he was never one to lie to her and she was never one to take it lying down. This knowledge hurts them both.

But it will also heal them, both.

"You and I know that while you have become a master of your skills, Elsa’s magic is far more mystifying than your own, unpredictable and frenzied. You and I know that as a result, you felt out of your element and restive. You and I both know that your discombobulation led you to fear for the lives of your people and your loved ones and therefore you felt the need to, once again, deal with it on your own, as you are wont to do."

She whimpers, still fighting to reign her emotions in because _damn if he didn’t peg her right_.

"It’s not that I doubt your potency, darling and it’s not that I don’t trust you. But you and I also know that you were letting your trepidation cloud your judgment and that your plan would surely end in ruins as a result. You were running, my sweet. And though I’d like to say it is an improvement, running towards danger isn’t any better than running away from it so you see," and he smiles slightly, "I would never have stayed put, Emma, because I will always keep running towards  _you_.”

He touches his forehead to hers.

"I will follow you to the ends of the earth, my love, and however long you deem fit to keep me around. But, and you know this as well as I do, I could never hide from you just as you can never hide from me."

And it should have scared her, that declaration, the openness and finality and  _togetherness_ it brings. But all it does is offer her release as the sobs she so obstinately refused to be let heard finally come tumbling out of her mouth as she falls into his waiting arms.

It is a release that thaws her heart because it has been a denial that has wrapped her chest like a vice.

But today, this  _remarkable_ day, there is no refuting it any longer.

She has fallen into the arms of her true love.

And he clings to her just as tightly in return.

"When her magic hit you, right in the chest, and you  _froze right in front of me_ , I thought… I  _thought_ …” She shakes her head. “Why would you do that, you stupid, stupid,  _idiot_. Jumping in front of me, that couldn’t have been your only option, that shouldn’t have been _your choice_!”

Her sobs reverberate right through him and it becomes all too much. They slide down the tiles of her bathroom walls, the shower a continuing crescendo of scorching hot water against their backs yet is of no consequence to them.

"Whatever intentions Elsa had, her bolt of magic was aiming for you love.  _There was no choice to make_.”

Their foreheads were still touching, her soaked hair making a curtain around her face, when she lifted it to meet his gaze. She smiled, weakly.

"I suppose… I can understand that because there was no choice for me when  _I_  kissed  _you_. I could just  _feel_ it. My magic was humming in my veins but my heart… there’s no describing it. I saw you, and I just  _knew_. I knew what had to be done.”

She kisses him then, crawling over to his lap, deepening it with a swipe of her tongue across the bottom of his lips. He eagerly responds, moans when their tongues collide and kisses her back with equal ferocity and passion. She feels the effect she has on him against her thighs and trembles in anticipation.

But she slows it down then and places a hand to his chest where his heart lies, feels it beat in tandem with her own and she is reminded, once again, that there is no denying their connection. He rubs his nose slowly along hers.

"True love’s kiss." He whispers and she nods, her own nose bumping softly against his.

"True love’s kiss."

She closes her eyes. “I never thought I’d have this.”

"Aye, neither did I."

"Which is why," she looks him directly into his eyes until all she sees is blue, blue,  _blue_ , and takes a deep breath. “You can’t do that again.  _Ever_.”

"I can’t–"

"But you  _must_!” She cups his face with both her hands, willing him to comprehend. “Today, seeing you cold and motionless on the floor made me realize something. I would be  _destroyed_ if I lost you. You’ve always come back to me, Killian, without  _fail_  and if I woke up one day and you were just  _gone_ –I  _wouldn’t survive_. Same goes for Henry, my brother  _and_ my parents. I’ve been alone for most of my life and  _now_ , now my life is tethered to more people than I can count, including you. This has never happened to me before and if you or any one of them  _die_ – I wouldn’t know how to _live_. I’m getting used to this life and I’d hate to lose it any time soon, not when I’m finally getting used to the idea of this – of home…  _family_.”

He brushes her hair behind her shoulder, the way he often does, taking in the stricken look on her face as he endeavors to smooth away the frown lines that have conquered her features. “I cannot make any promises, love. But you needn’t worry about me. I’ve been around for nearly 330 years.” He grins. “I’ve no plans to break that streak, especially now that I’ve met you and your family.”

The grin fades away though at his next words, replaced by earnestness and sincerity. “I can see how this whole ‘getting cursed’ business hurts you though and so I do vow to avoid putting myself in unnecessary harm. But always remember that your pain is also mine to bear and if something ill were to befall me, Emma, never fear because I cannot be without you and I will  _unfailingly_ come back to you.”

Her forehead drops to his shoulder as he carries her, wrapping her long legs around him while he switches off the shower. He feels her apology in the way that she holds on tighter to him and forms the letters into the spaces between his neck and shoulders, branding them with kisses into his skin. He leads them to their bed, the steam from their bath following them into the room.

She smiles through her tears when he takes her, fast and hard and long and slow and everything in between. She thinks the time for words is done, but not before she utters the most important ones for the first time.

"I love you, Killian."

The confession has them both going over the edge and he collapses on top of her, head resting on top of the place where her heart resides, beating in time with his own (it beats always to the same rhythm now).

"And I you."

He kisses her and feels her magic engulf them, pouring over them in waves of light until they are both glowing. It is chasing away the seemingly deep-set freeze into their bones and Emma is shining _, shining,_ resplendent and beautiful and radiant and  _his true love_.

His heart aches but that is fine because it’s the good kind of ache. The kind that has your heart soaring out of your chest and straight into your lover’s own and you just know that no matter what happens, you’ll be okay.

You both will be.

**Author's Note:**

> It’s midnight and I am incapable of writing anything but emotional fluff so… meh, sue me. But I just love my otp so much right now I had to show it somehow!
> 
> Tell me lovelies, did you feel the love? ;)


End file.
